


All my Dreams Locked in a Box

by TheUniverseWillSing



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Adoption, Christmas, Doctor Who at the Proms, Fluff, Homecoming, M/M, RPF, Soldiers, doctor who - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-09
Updated: 2011-11-09
Packaged: 2017-10-25 21:35:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/275042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheUniverseWillSing/pseuds/TheUniverseWillSing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A sort of sequel to The One You Win, based off of the same premise as We Call Them Miracles, because I couldn't get the idea out of my head of Soldier!John coming home and surprising Jessica.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All my Dreams Locked in a Box

**Author's Note:**

> The RPF tag is only because it's Matt Smith the actor _playing_ the Doctor at the proms, and I didn't know how else to convey it. So he's sort of the Doctor but sort of not...

They’d had it planned down to every dot and cross for weeks, ever since John had gotten words of his pending leave over the holidays. Sherlock had looked down at his buzzing phone and absently called up the stairs, “Jessica! Papa’s calling from Afghanistan!” before answering.

From as far as the sitting room, Sherlock could hear the unrestrained shriek of glee before their nine-year-old daughter was thundering down the stairs.

“ _So, has she noticed I’m gone?_ ” chuckled John through the tiny speaker, the reception crackling and weak over the miles.

Jessica crashed headlong into Sherlock’s side, jumping excitedly and scrabbling for the mobile. “Papa! Papa, I miss you! Did you get my drawings?”

“ _I got them, love,_ ” assured John, “ _and thank you for telling your classmates to draw me pictures too; I’ve got enough to wallpaper the whole base. Everyone’s wildly jealous._ ”

Judging by the soldier’s tone of voice, he’d actually gotten quite a bit of teasing for the two-dozen letters and pictures he’d been sent by their child’s classmates, but he sounded relaxed enough for it to have been good-natured rather than hostile. Good. If anyone so much as thought of mistreating Sherlock’s husband during his two years away, they wouldn’t last those two years.

“I knew they would be,” confirmed Jessica. “That’s why I need all of their names so we can send someone else pictures every week. Please, Papa? They’ll be so happy!”

“ _I’ll see what I can do, sweetheart,_ ” John’s voice promised, sounding fond and amused. “ _Jessie, can I talk to Daddy for a little while now? Sorry love, just boring grown-up things._ ”

The girl pouted, lower lip extending to twice its normal size, but didn’t protest. It had been a long ten months for all of them, and she knew well enough that Daddy and Papa needed alone time on the phone by now to keep Daddy from being snippish later. She nodded and ambled off to her room again, shouting over her shoulder, “I love you Papa! Make sure Daddy calls me to say goodbye!”

“ _I love you too!_ ” Sherlock switched off the speaker and settled on the sofa. “ _She’s gone, yeah?_ ” he asked anxiously.

Sherlock furrowed his brow. “Should I take this to the bedroom? You sound frustrated.”

“ _No, that’s not what I-! No. Listen, it’s about Christmas. Sherlock, I’m coming home, but I want to make it a surprise,_ ” uttered the doctor quickly. “ _You’re taking her to the Proms, aren’t you?_ ”

“Yes,” replied Sherlock, feeling his heart quicken at the idea of them all being together at Christmas.

“ _Good, that’s good. I’ve emailed them asking if we can set something up as a little treat for Jessie, and they had some great ideas..._ ”

Half a dozen emails to the BBC, one dreaded phone-call to Mycroft, and three weeks later, Sherlock and Jessica were ensconced in plush VIP seats to watch Doctor Who at the Proms.

Jessica had opened her Christmas presents that morning to find a brand new pair of sparkly blue trainers (having outgrown her pink ones over a year ago) and practically an entire new wardrobe from her Uncle Mycroft, despite the fact that Sherlock had insisted she would outgrow it all in a few months. At the bottom of the bag was a blue dress and two tickets to see the Proms that evening.

Just knowing that they were going to the Proms was enough to make the child ecstatic to the point of tears; Sherlock wondered if seeing her Papa again would even come close, knowing the intense emotional attachment she had formed with the popular show as a way to memorialize her dead biological father and the initial bond that connected her to her new ones.

She was already bouncing before the light went down, and Sherlock had to close his hand around hers to remind her to breathe.

The show was brilliantly done, as it had been every year since its beginnings. Authentic monsters from the episodes came crawling along the aisles, reaching artificial claws toward children and adults alike and getting shrieks of surprise from both sides (Jessica tried to hug a Dalek, naturally), the stars of the show (minus the lead, who was filming abroad) made brilliant hosts, funny clips played on the monitors above the stage, and the violinists’ section was a wonder to watch.

Every few minutes Sherlock’s eyes would be drawn down to his daughter, who spent most of the performance with her mouth hanging open, hanging off the handrail in front of her in lieu of sitting in her seat, too pent up to even speak more than “Look at that! Did you see? Did you see, Daddy?” Every time, whether he had seen or not, he would nod his head and smile before checking his watch. Almost time.

The final song wrapped up with a grand crescendo, and the audience leaped to their feet in appreciation. Jessica looked inconsolable in the face of the end, but Sherlock fought a grin. The crowds started packing up their purses and children, when suddenly the lights fell again. A hush went over the audience for only seconds before they were cheering again in anticipation of an encore.

Instead, the Doctor himself burst through a door at the back, covered in fake soot and beaming around.

“Sorry I’m late!” he apologized, barely audible over the surprised roar of the fans.

Jessica’s eyes looked ready to pop out of her head. Her mouth opened wide but no sound came out so she gripped Sherlock’s sleeve and yanked instead. “I see him, Jessica.”

The Doctor tromped down the aisle adjacent to their seats, buzzing about with the sonic screwdriver in his hand, babbling an explanation about some alien interruption that Sherlock wasn’t hearing at all; he was too excited. The floppy-haired young man stopped at their row and made quite a show of buzzing Jessica with the device. She grinned and giggled, still clutching her daddy’s hand.

“Hello!” the Doctor greeted her cheerfully. He glanced questioningly up at Sherlock, who nodded in confirmation. The other man grinned. “I’m the Doctor, and you must be Jessica. I’ve heard of you; you’re quite a fan, aren’t you?”

Jessica could barely speak, she was so awed. “You’remyfavoriteDoctoranIwannabeacompanionwhenI’mbig,” she stammered after a moment, seeming determined to have gotten that much out. Sherlock wondered briefly if that’s what he’d heard her muttering to herself in the bathroom before the show, practicing what she’d say in just such an event. The audience laughed and clapped, having heard her voice in the actor’s microphone.

“Big?” asked the Doctor, obviously puzzled. “You want to be a companion when you’re a grown-up? But that’s no fun at all!” He knelt down close to the girl, as though about to tell a secret. Sherlock looked up at the monitors and saw the unguarded joy on his daughter’s face as the other man leaned close and asked, “How about you be my companion right now?”

Immediately there were two tiny eager hands pulling the front of his jacket. “Daddy, Daddy can I please?” she begged, shouting over the support of the audience.

Just to be contradictory, he pretended to think about it for several seconds, scratching his chin and everything before his daughter looked ready to have a conniption.

“You can come along as well, Daddy,” winked the Doctor. “Just one trip, mind. Nothing poisonous or boring, I promise. Lots of jammy dodgers for you and Jessica!”

With one hand on the girl’s head, he nodded his consent. “I suppose that will be alright.”

Next thing he knew Jessica was dragging him down the steps toward the stage, being led herself by the Doctor’s hand. As they approached, from a rising platform in the middle of the stage, the TARDIS appeared. Jessica jumped excitedly between her two heroes as the crowd went particularly wild.

“Now, Jessica, tell me about yourself,” said the Doctor as they navigated through the crowd at the bottom level. “You’re here with your daddy, but you’ve got a Papa too, haven’t you?”

Once they were clear of the crowds and safely up onstage he leaned close again so Jessica’s voice would be amplified to the whole theatre. “Yeah, I do!” she said, shocked that the Doctor knew so much about her.

The Doctor ruffled her hair. “And where is your Papa, then, why isn’t he with you?”

“He’s in Afghanistan,” explained the girl matter-of-factly. “He’s a doctor too, see, but he’s an Army doctor instead of a Doctor-doctor.”

“Well that’s wonderful!” cried the Doctor, prompting cheers from the audience. Sherlock felt pride swell in his chest, knowing that his husband was appreciated. “But he’s not home for Christmas?”

Jessica shook her head, and the Doctor pulled a face. “Well, that’s rubbish.”

“I know!” she agreed vehemently to the laughter of the audience.

The Doctor seemed to think about her answer for several moments before quietly asking, “Do you miss your papa, Jessica?”

This time her answer was more subdued. “Uh-huh.”

Then, in a way that was not in the plans at all, the Doctor stood up and addressed Sherlock. “And do _you_ miss her papa, Daddy?” he grinned wickedly.

Sherlock shot him a glare and gripped his daughter’s shoulder. “Every moment of every day,” he replied coolly, forcing himself not to turn red when the crowd went wild. It seemed that they knew what would happen, but Jessica was still star-struck.

“Well! Nothing better than a trip to space-Disney to alleviate the grumpies!” diverted the actor with a clap of his hands. “Let me just open the TAR-” He pushed on the TARDIS door, but it didn’t budge. “... _Open_ the _TARDIS_.” Another push and still nothing. The Doctor scratched his head comically, looking around before trying another few times. “You know, Jessica, I don’t think the TARDIS wants to open for me. Probably because I’ve pushed the door too many times. She gets cranky when I don’t follow the sign you see. Maybe you ought to try instead - she’s more fond of girls.”

She froze up, eyes popping out of her head. Sherlock had to give her a nudge, and she just barely inched forward, cowed by all of her dreams coming true at once. Biting his lip, Sherlock held his breath as she drew nearer to the ship, knowing exactly what was inside, of course, but still waiting for the surprise with everyone else watching.

Because nerves had her all jumbled up, Jessica ended up pushing on the door too. The Doctor had to prompt her gently; she pulled it open then sprinted back to Sherlock’s side without looking in, because artificial smoke had rolled out and spooked her.

Jessica watched from behind Sherlock’s hip as, from the “depths” of the spaceship, came John Watson in full fatigues dress, grinning from ear-to-ear.

“Well, would you look at who was hiding in my ship!” the Doctor announced over the roaring delight of the audience.

Before he’d even gotten it half out Jessica had torn herself away from Sherlock and sprinted for John, red-faced and crying with joy as she leaped into his arms, locking both arms and legs around him in an unyielding grip. The orchestra started playing Amy and Rory’s theme from the program, and the combined stimulus made Sherlock’s throat feel oddly tight.

A hand clapped down on his shoulder, and the Doctor’s voice boomed over the deafening cheering. “Well? What are you waiting for, Daddy? Go get ‘em!”

On oddly-shaking legs, uncertain as to whether he was laughing or really embarrassing himself, Sherlock took the ten steps forward into his family’s embrace. If it were possible, the cheering only grew louder.

“I missed you, Papa,” he heard Jessica sob into John’s neck.

They at the same time pressed kisses to the crown of her head. “I missed you too, sweetheart,” replied John thickly before arching his head up to plant a kiss on Sherlock’s lips as well.

Very vaguely, Sherlock was aware of the Doctor Who cast coming onstage to see as well, and the Doctor calling for recognition toward the armed services still fighting in Afghanistan and Iraq, thanking John for his service, all of that...but the three of them never let go.

“Now, _that_ is love,” laughed the Doctor after three solid minutes of applause and their embrace.

In the cab on the way home, clutching autographs from Matt Smith, Karen Gillan, a Dalek, and Alex Kingston against her chest, Jessica closed her free hand around John’s and fell into the deepest, happiest, and most emotionally-exhausted sleep ever to befall a nine-year-old. It wasn’t every day that all of one’s dreams came true at once, after all.


End file.
